


Variant.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, M/M, Mystery, Prison, based off a book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell starts at a private boarding school: “Chapel Hill Heights’ a new start, after spending most of his life in a children’s home. But as soon as he arrives, he realises he’s trapped inside a school he can’t understand. A school which is more of a prison;  the rules are different. There are no staff, no real rules except one: Don’t try and escape.</p><p>Then he meets Phil, the blue eyed boy with the bright smile. But there’s something not quite right about him….</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Start.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I adored writing this, it's been floating around in my head for a while and I think you guys will like it?:P

Prologue - Phil.

It’s five minutes past two in the morning when they come.

I sit up in bed, still clinging to the dream I’d been having. The details of it are already slipping away with every tense second I manage to take in reality which was seeping back to me in chunks of terror.

Fear clenches in my chest the second Tara comes into focus in my fuzzy vision. She was standing by the door with the other members of the society. She stands with her arms folded across her chest; still in her school uniform; perfect silky blonde hair cascading down her back, her lips in a mock disappointed pout. God, I hate her.

“You guys need anything?” I struggle to keep my voice from shaking as Tara only offers me a sad looking smile. Miles and Matthew her prize cronies stood by either side of her along with Laura and Charlie. The society members blocked my dorm room door and I had a feeling the others were outside. Waiting for me.

I sat up in bed, bleary eyed. I wiped my eyes of sleep and mentally forced myself to be calm. I studied the trajectory of my room. No real sharp objects to attack with, damn. I eye my lamp sitting on my nightstand. My heart was starting to slam against my chest, because I’d seen it before. I knew, despite internally denying it. I knew exactly what was going on. 

“C’mon Phil,” Tara takes a step forward, still with that stupid smirk on her pasty face. “You know the rules.” she opens her mouth to recite it, but I let out a choked laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Tara.” I say softly.

“Sorry Dude,” Matthew doesn't look the least bit sorry. He has a single coil of ratty rope in his hands and tugs it, glancing at me, his lips fashioning into a playful smile. “You don’t want us to take you unwillingly do you?”

Charlie nods, one hand on her hip, the other holding a taser. I stare at her. Charlie Bradley. Curly hair the colour of blood, skin as pale as my own. Her bright green eyes were narrowed at me her head cocked at an angle. “You broke the rules, Lester.” she says simply. And just for a second, her green eyes dart warily to the security camera fixed onto the wall, a red light blinked when I followed her gaze, staring straight into the lense. I can’t count the number of times I’d tried to smash the damn thing up. Others had tried too. But it was impossible. They were always watching.

I’m visibly shaking, that I know. I clench my fists at my side and flinch when Miles raises his taser, his expression wiped of emotion. “You’ll either come willingly, or we’ll drag you, Variant.” he spits our name like poison and I take one look at the camera, it’s lazer blinked at me twice and I thought about the people on the other side of the glass. Tears burned my eyes as Tara and Matthew grabbed me roughly and started to drag me out of my room. I thought about screaming for help, but PJ and Elle were nowhere to be seen, and the other Variants were probably sound asleep.

The Society led me down familiar corridors lit up with hazy orange light, as if the bulbs themselves were leading me to my fate. Tara kept a tough grip on my upper arm. “What’s-what’s down there?” my voice is shaking and I dig my feet into the rough carpet of the floor as I spy the door standing at the end of the corridor. “You can’t do this!” I want to cry, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction. Laura pats me on the back as they tug me closer, Tara grappling with me as I try and tear myself out of her steely grip. “It’s only detention, Phil!” she laughs loudly, the others snickering. My stomach flips and I give up struggling as we arrive at the metal doors. Tara and Matthew drop me and I face-plant the ground with a gruff grunt.

“You enjoy doing this!” I accuse, my voice breaking when I couldn’t help notice a smear of something dark splotched all over the metal doors. “Tell me now!” I scream, hoping PJ and Elle get here soon. But curiosity clenched my gut. “What’s in that room?” I say softly, though I’m on the urge of hyperventilating. I lock eyes with a society member, Zoe. She was the only one who wasn’t smiling.

Laura steps forward and points her taser at my face. I don’t move, the blocky rectangle inches from my mouth. “Don’t move.” she hisses, her perfect lips curled into a nasty snarl. Her worn nails dance across a keypad glowing green. When it makes a click noise, she and the others step backwards as if scared themselves.

I’m kicked forwards on my hands and knees, but I don’t look away from Zoe. The metal doors suddenly slide open treating me to a peek to what had haunted my mind for months. It looked like a lift- no, it was a lift. Just a simple square of metal, floor and ceiling.

I have no choice. I want to cry and scream, but there’s no point. I’m trapped. I slump down to my knees and sob. The lift doors start to close and I get a last look at my classmates; Laura and Charlie staring right at me, twisted smiles on their faces. The others were walking away. But not Zoe.

“What’s in here?” I ask desperately. Zoe looks like she might not reply, but before the doors obstruct her from my vision, she opens her mouth and mouths:

We don’t know.

I jump up with that last bit of lingering adrenaline as the lift doors slide shut with a metallic clang. With a loud ding the lift starts to fly upwards and I clench the walls, trying to keep my balance.

I won’t cry. I won’t fight. I wipe my eyes and catch a flash of red light at the corner of my eye. A camera.

“Go ahead,” my arms fall to my side in surrender as I glare at the empty lense staring straight back at me. “Do your worst.”

*

Part I

“You’ll love it here, trust me!” Mrs Thorpe or whatever her name is gives me a lipsticky grin in the cracked wing mirror of her car and I force one back, wanting to sink into the plush seats. Some plucky pop song plays on the radio and Mrs Thorpe nods her head happily to it, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel rhythmically. 

My fingers twitch to grab the hoodie of my dark blue jumper and pull it over my head, hopefully blocking out the irritating female singer trying to express her sadness over some stupid breakup. Mrs Thorpe sings along and I try not to grit my teeth. I should be happy, right? A new start. A new school. And I guess I was positive when I dragged my suitcases out of Sunny Hill children’s home into an awaiting TAXI this morning. I’d spent most of the journey to Manchester listening to my iPod and playing with the drawstrings of my hoodie and watching the A56 motorway fly by in a rush of colour. 

That was until my iPod died. The journey in Mrs. Thorpe’s car was worse. This time there was no motorway in sight. I’d peered out of the window of the teachers posh Mercedes and watched nothing but trees rush by for at least ten minutes. I lay back in my seat, closing my eyes. I’d be there soon. New start. New school. I kept saying this to myself. It was either this or go to some crappy college and study who knows what. Your choices are limited when you’re a seventeen - nearly eighteen- year old orphan, but the scholarship was perfect. My social worker had suggested it in the summer, and I’d jumped at the idea. I’d never been to boarding school. Never been at a school long enough to have actual friends. Basically, I was a fucking nobody.

“It’s a brilliant school, Daniel.” Mrs Thorpe pauses between singing along to another pop song and shoots me another excited grin,for what must be the thousandth time.

“Ah, almost here!” we drive up to a fence and I crane my neck to stare up at it. I want to question it, but the teacher is chuckling as she maneuvers the car straight forwards. We drive up a singular path bam smack in the middle of a forest. Trees the size of skyscrapers obstruct the late afternoon sun and leave an eerie shadow in it’s wake. I clutch my backpack to my chest, my nerves kicking in when Mrs Thorpe claps her hands and my head shoots up, my eyes scanning the grounds as we drive up to a huge victorian-looking school. I can’t help pressing my face against the window in awe. “Founded in 1860, Chapel Hill Heights was originally a school for boys-” Mrs Thorpe begins her commentary as she pulls up outside a huge red wooden door, steps leading up to it. The grounds were admittedly beautiful. Outside the school were acres and acres of land leading straight to the tall fence I’d seen earlier. “Right Dan!” Mrs Thorpe finally uses my preferred name and turns to me, handing me a bit of paper. I take it, raising my eyebrows. “What do I do with this?” I grab my bag and push the door open, stepping out of the car, my trainers crunching on the gravel. Mrs Thorpe winds down her window and starts up the car once again. “Carrie will take care of you. Give them to her.” she indicates the papers in my hands with a curt nod. My stomach flips as the nerves kick in. “Aren’t you coming in with me?”

Mrs Thorpe frowns at me, her closely knit eyebrows almost forming a mono-brow. “I’m sure Carrie will be able to sort you out,” she winks at me with a parting wave and leaves me standing on the gravel pathway. “Your suitcases have already been delivered!” she yells as she reverses the car backwards, burning rubber. I take a deep breath and look up at the school in all of its glory. I nearly jump back in fright when I notice a face pressed against one of the windows- and when my eyes scanned other windows, they too were occupied with the faces of kids,slamming their hands on the glass. Girls and boys looking frantic. I raise my hand in an awkward wave, but it wasn’t me they were looking at.

“Wait!” the huge Victorian doors fly open and I stagger backwards, nearly tripping over my own feet. A girl and boy run out of the school, their expressions determined. The two of them wore blue blazer’s with the school crest which I can’t make out. The boy is tall with what looks like bleached white hair, his mouth set in a grim line as him and the girl stop next to me.

“New boy,” the girl says, but her voice is far-away. Her eyes are on Mrs Thorpe’s departing car. The girl was plump with long braided hair. She too sported the school uniform.

“Listen, don’t listen to Matthew or Xavier!” the boy is out of breath, but manages to yell at me. He grabs the girl’s hand and they take off down the path, running after Mrs Thorpe’s car as if their lives depended on it.

I watch them, completely bewildered. Was this some kind of prank they were playing on the teacher? I watch them lose the car, and watch the boy punch the ground and the girl cry out in distress.

“”Hello!” a voice startles me and my attention is drawn from the strange kids, to a curly blonde with possibly the brightest smile I had ever seen. She was standing in the doorway with the uniform on. Unlike the boy and girl, her uniform looked perfectly pressed; her tie pulled up to her collar and short black skirt. She had a clipboard clutched to her chest. “Daniel Howell right?”

Carrie. Mrs Thorpe’s parting words struck me, and I remember the papers in my hands.

I nodded, glancing behind me to see the girl and boy had disappeared. “I’m Carrie!” the girl grins excitedly, holding out a hand for me to shake. I smile back and nearly tell her my name again, but manage to bite my tongue. Carrie, still grinning like a maniac, follows my gaze to where the kids had chased after Mrs Thorpe’s car. “Don’t worry about Caspar and Louise,” she rolls her eyes still managing to withhold her grin, which admittedly was getting pretty creepy and unnerving now.

“They do it every time a new person comes,” Carrie mumbles to herself. Then; “They’re so in trouble.” when I look blankly at her, she fashions a grin again and I bite back the urge to ask her why she was so damn happy. “Right! should we get started then?” she starts to climb the steps and I follow behind. “So, are you taking me to the head teacher’s office?” I ask curiously.

Carrie turns and smirks at me. “Nope! Just me!” she turns back around and leads me through the Victorian doors into a huge foyer- tiled flooring and a fancy looking chandelier hanging above. “To your left is the cafeteria!” Carrie says happily, pointing to a pair of equally sized huge doors. I nod quickly and follow her at a fast run,keeping ahold of my backpack clumsily slung over my shoulder. “What do you mean it’s just you? isn’t there a member of staff I can speak too?”

Carrie doesn’t turn to look at me, only keeps going, leading me down from the foyer,through some double doors and into a small office. Carrie gestured for me to sit down, and I slumped down in a - beanbag? I Thought Carrie would leave, but instead she took a seat behind the desk. The office only withheld a desk, a set of beanbags and a filing cabinet. I couldn’t hold in my questions any longer. “Wait,” I lean forward frowning at the strange girl. “This is your office?”

“Yep!” she leans back in her chair, produces a file from the filing cabinet and splays it out on her desk before looking up at me, her bright eyes glowing. “I’m guessing you’re confused?” she asks. I want to laugh out loud, because YES I’M CONFUSED.Instead of laughing however, I just clear my throat. “May I speak with a teacher?” I Ask, trying to be polite. When she frowns I quickly say; “Not that I don’t like you uh….doing my introductions,I just need to speak with an adult so I can get settled in.” I smile at her but she just shakes her head.

“What?” I stare right back at her, slowly losing my patience by the second. Carrie sighs. “Okay Dan,this isn’t….” she seems to be thinking of the right word. “a normal school.”

I blink at her. “Meaning?”

Carrie clears her throat. “There are no teachers.”

I laugh, but she doesn’t join in. After waiting for the punch-line to no avail, I give up. “Sorry,what?” my head starts to hurt as my brain tries to process this. “How can a school have no teachers?

She shrugs. “We’re the teachers Dan. And the cooks, the cleaners, the administrators and of course-” she let out a nervous laugh. “Students.”

I noticed Carrie was almost definitely faking her grin now. She looked almost in pain she was grinning so damn hard. I stare at her. “This is a joke.” I say shakily. “It has to be!”

“Not a joke…” Carrie mutters to herself, and I swear her eyes flicker to something above me. I laugh, tired of the bullshit.”Sorry,but I’m not staying here.” I say through a nervous and quite frankly terrified laugh. “How the fuck can there be a school with no teachers?!”

“Calm down!” Carrie is still somehow smiling. “I’ll-” she she sighs, defeated. “I’ll explain everything.”

I roll my eyes and find myself sitting back down on the beanie.

Carrie retains her unnerving grin and clasps her hands in front of her, fiddling with a ring on her index finger. “I’m not sure where to start,” she giggles nervously and must see my face, so she sighs again. “What you said earlier,” she started slowly.”About leaving.” her smile disappeared.

“Yeah?”I prompt. My stomach started to do cartwheels when Carrie’s face lost its bright intensity and turned white. “Dan,you can’t leave.”she says, in what must be her real voice. The over the top perkiness has gone and I’m left staring at a terrified teenage girl.

A shiver rips its way up my spine. “What do you mean I can’t leave?” I try and laugh, but the laughter dies in my throat when Carrie just stared at me, her eyes wide and frantic.

“Go on?” I say with a frown. Do I really want an explanation?

Carrie’s staring at the ceiling again- and this time I follow her gaze and my heart jumps into my throat when I find myself staring into the blank lense of a security camera. Carrie seemed to snap out of it and no matter how pale she looked she manufactured another sloppy grin.

“Ah, the rule book!” her voice is way too high as she grabs a white folder off her desk and dumps it front of me. “There are only three important rules you must follow!” she says gleefully,as if I’d just told her she had won the lottery.

I stare down at the rule book. The rules were printed in bold italics and upside down to me, so I couldn’t read them. Carrie grinned at me.”Okay, rule number one!” she fixes me with an almost terrifying grin. “Don’t try and leave.” she said, and I swear her voice shook.”If you try and leave,sanctions will be put in place and you’ll be taken to detention immediately.”

I stare at her. “This is a joke right?”

She laughs. “Nope!” she scans the pages of the so-called ‘rule-book’ and cleared her throat. “Rule number two!” she says happily, smiling at me. I scowl back.

“No violent fighting.” she reads out, and I scoff. “Isn’t all fighting violent?”

Carrie looks up and really looks at me. “A few months back, there was a-” she shivers and nervously curls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “I guess you could call it a war.” she says softly, her smile once again diminishing.

She can’t be serious. This has to be a joke- it has to be! But despite wanting to jump up and run out, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her face. She looked….broken. Her gaze was on her desk and her lips pressed into a thin line. “There was a war over positions,” she said shakily. “Gangs were formed, and people..” she took a deep breath and fixed me with a haunting look.

“People died.” she said softly. “So, tribes- I mean gangs were put together, so everyone could be in their own group, and of that group everyone would be designated a certain position.

She didn’t give me a chance to speak. “So, you need to pick a gang.” she says firmly. “Or you won’t survive. Nobody survives without a gang.”

My entire body is cold, I feel sick. This isn’t a school- this isa fucking prison.

“The gangs are as follows!” with another glance at the security camera, Carrie pastes another grin on her face. I focus on the wooden mahogany of her desk to avoid vomiting.

“The Society,”Carrie smiles brightly. “I’m a member!” she clears her throat. “We are in charge of rules, admin,security and teaching.” her voice feels a million miles away, but I try to process it.

“Then there’s Havoc,” she continues. “They’re..ah, a difficult group. Try not associate yourself with them!” she laughs a loud fake laugh again and I get conflicted feelings whether I should scream at her or hug her.

“Havoc are in charge of the cafeteria…preparing meals and serving.” she smiles at me, and I can’t even look at her.

“Then there’s the V’s,” she says, and gets a funny look on her face. “Those kids, Caspar and Louise? The ones who tried to escape? they’re in that gang.” she sighs. “The V’s have the crappy jobs,Y’know? like the cleaners and maintenance” she glances at me hopefully. “I recommend you join The Society, but its your choice!” she trills.

“What if I don’t want to join a gang?” I mumble, ignoring the fact that I sound like a whiny toddler.

Carrie fixes me with a dark look. “Join a gang, Dan.” she says simply, and before I can protest she’s carrying on with the rules. “Rule number three,” she pauses for effect and I don’t bother fighting back the urge to roll my eyes. Instead of telling me the stupid rule she stood up and crouched by the filing cabinet ,pulling out a draw and picking out a black metal box.

Carrie sat back down,opening the box and pulling out a silver chain and dangling it in front of me. I frown at it. “Let me guess, if I don’t wear this I’ll blow up.” I feverishly think of the film Battle Royale.

She laughs, but doesn’t smile this time. “It’s just a device we all need to wear.” she gestures me to take it but I back away from it as if it’s riddled with cockroaches.

“A device?!” I repeat in a hissed shout, “What if I don’t wear it?”

Carrie looks down at her skirt. “That’s rule number three,” she mumbles. “All students must wear a chip at all times.”

“Chip?!” I practically squawk, “We’re not dogs!”

Carrie flinches. “Keep it down!”she hisses. “Look, all the chip does is allow into your dorm room and the front door.”she says,once again gesturing for me to take it.

“You mean I can open the door leading outside?” I ask, trying to hide my curiosity. Carrie nods and smirks when I try and take the chain. “It doesn’t go around your neck,it’s a bracelet, silly.”

Before I can answer or hesitate, she grabs my wrist before I can cry out, and before I know what she’s doing, the girl is clasping the bracelet around my wrist. “This might hurt.” she muttered, and I was about to ask her how it could possibly hurt when a striking pain struck my wrist. I pulled back with a hiss and tried to claw the damn thing off. Carrie smiled sheepishly. “It’s permanent I’m afraid,” she says and tries to fake a smile. My wrist burns and feels sore, when I try and rip the bracelet off I feel like the chain itself is glued to my skin.

I want to throw up and cry. I need to get out of here. I stand up shakily and Carrie jumps up too. “Let me show you to your dorm room!” she says excitedly. “You’re in….” she peers at paperwork on her desk. “Room seventy eight!” she pulls a face. “You’re with Havoc guys.”

“I….is my orientation over now?” I just about manage to say without throwing up. The pain in my wrist has flared and I want to take a sledgehammer to it.

Carrie nods. “Yes! follow me and I’ll show you your room!” she grabs me by the arm and yanks me out of the office.

As soon as we’re away from Carrie’s office,she leans in for a hug, wrapping her arms around me. “You’re going to love it here, Dan!” in her fake too-happy voice, and then she hissed in my ear.

“I Know it’s bad,believe me. Just join a gang, play by the rules and you’ll be fine.”

*

I examined every inch of the iron fence in front of me, getting more and more angry by the second. There was no way out. I wanted to scream at the darkening sky, but all I could really do was stare pathetically at the fence. It was at least fifty feet tall. If I even attempted an escape, I’d risk breaking my neck.But anything-oh god, anything to get out of here.

Carrie had taken me to my room while everyone was still in class, so I thankfully had not met anyone yet. I didn’t want to associate myself with anyone. So I retraced my steps back downstairs, past Carrie’s office, and with a bunch of kids who were hanging out on the steps watching, I legged it to the fence. And when I got there I screamed at it and kicked and punched at it to no avail. Carrie had never told me the reason why the school was like this. Who made the rules? who monitored every fucking step of every damn student?!

I don’t know how long I’ve been out here screaming at a fucking fence like psycho, but my stomach is complaining for food and my throat is itchy and dry from screaming none stop.

The sky was starting to go from a murky purple colour to an inky black. Carrie told me during my so called ‘orientation’ that the doors were locked at exactly nine O'clock after classes. But I didn’t care. It was summer, and I had my jacket. I wasn’t going to join a gang, I wasn’t going to do a stupid job or work for food. I’m not following any of these stupid rules. I kick the fence again in frustration, and again because I Liked the way it bounced back with a ringing clang. It was surely getting weak,right? a few hundred more hits and the bastard would be down.

“Do you usually talk to yourself?” a voice startles me and I twist around, ready to scream and claw at whoever would dare interrupt my mental breakdown.

There’s a boy my age standing in front of me, smirking. His eyes are bright blue- almost too blue.His hair matches the sky right now, and he has it neatly brushed into a fringe covering his left eye. The boy wears a long sleeved school shirt and tie and is chewing on an apple.

“Hi, boy-who-talks-to-himself,”the boy smiles and I find myself smiling too. Despite everything. “I’m Dan.” I reply, and he raises his eyebrows. “I gathered.”he winks at me and I frown. “What?”

“You’ve been screaming ‘I’M DAN HOWELL, I DON’T DESERVE THIS,” for about half an hour,” the boy laughs when I redden. I didn’t realize I was doing that.

“Anyway, I’m Phil,”the boy nods at me and grins before his gaze slides to the fence. “You’ll never get over it, y’know.” he sighs. “Many of The V’s have tried it.”

“The V’s,”I repeat stupidly. Phil nods. “We’re Variant,” he said, smiling softly, but there was something in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone. “Are you already part of a gang?” he asks conversationally, taking another chunk out of the apple.

“No,”I mutter. “I don’t want to be.”

Phil nods in understanding. “I get you.When I first keep here I refused to join a gang, until The Society caught me trying to scale the fence,”Phil looked distant. as if the memory hurt him.

I didn’t need to say anything. He carried on. “If it wasn’t for PJ, Elle, Joe and the others, I would probably have been taken to detention,” I caught a dark look in his eyes. “Detention is a death sentence, Dan.” he mumbles. “You hear me? You never, ever want to be sent down there.”

“What’s down there?”I can’t help asking.

Phil stiffens. “Nobody knows.”


	2. Breakin' bitches.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something isn't quite right with Phil, we meet Havoc and Variant- made up of new characters and Youtubers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore writing this, its so fun! please leave kudos if you want more and tell me what you think :D

Part 2 -

 

“There are so many empty people walking around on this little planet. Lonely people. Angry people. Bitter. Forgotten.” 

― Jeyn Roberts, Dark Inside

 

******

Nobody.

His name is Dan. 

I catch glimpses of him sometimes, through his eyes. I feel what he feels, but it’s not what I feel. I'm nobody. 

I'm lost and he sometimes feels me. My thoughts and feelings. My fear and pain; the pain of loneliness. 

Though that’s bad. He has to be happy and healthy. But sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I want it all to end. Sometimes I hate being human. 

\----

Dan

My room is nothing special. I barely pay attention to it as I collapse onto my bed- burrowing my face into my pillows and wishing this was all a fucked up dream. My room was everything I expected; small with a bed, desk and walls to decorate and personalise. The me from three hours ago might have loved it; taking in the dark blue walls speckled with white to resemble stars. But present me just thinks it’s childish. 

“New boy, huh?” I didn’t catch my roommate's name, but it takes 0.16 seconds for me to realize I hate him. He’s in Havoc, and Carrie’s words resurface in my mind as I lie on my bed, trying to close my eyes and just think. I need to get out of here, but Phil was adamant. “Don’t try and escape, Dan.” were his parting words to me before we went our separate ways. Ever since I’d met the guy, no matter how much my brain wanted to freak out about this whole ‘trapped in a prison which pretended to be a school’ situation, for some reason I can’t stop thinking about him.

Whump, whump, whump.

“Little fucker!” my roommate is laughing and holding what used to be an orange basketball. I can still see where MIKASA was printed in black. Now it’s just a flat lump of orange plastic. 

“You in a gang, yet?” the boy is sitting on his bed, stabbing at the popped basketball with a plastic knife with what I’d call ‘murderous’ eyes. His smile is twisted and grotesque and it’s obvious he’s lost a few too many teeth. I remember what Carrie said as I take the boy in. “There was a war” she had said sombrely. The boy was short with thick black hair and had stubble dotting his chin. He, like everyone else in this damn school, had a unique way of wearing his school uniform; for the V’s, the kids I’d first met when I came here, Caspar and Louise, and Phil, they wore it sloppily; sleeves rolled up, tie loose around their collar; I guess it was their way of rebelling.

“I’m not staying long,” I mutter in-reply to his question. He laughs loudly at that and I bite back a grimace. “Yeah, what makes you so special?” his arm movements are quickening and despite the basketball having popped god knows how long ago, he still stabs at it. I want to ask him why exactly he’s stabbing the popped remnants of a basketball, but from the look on his face if I ask him anything, he looks like he might use me as his next target for stabbing practise. 

My Havoc roommate seemed to match the other Havoc boys I’d seen on my way back to my room. Havoc boys and girls could be identified via how scruffy they looked as well as many purple bruises and cuts littering their faces. Girls had either shaved half their hair off and streaked it deep green or crimson red and the boys skulked around with different ratty hairstyles. My roommate’s, like the others, had shaved the letter ‘H’ into their hair. I winced. I was planning on keeping my dark brown mop thank you very much.

“Name’s Alfie,” the boy paused in assaulting the basketball and gave me a toothy grin, which was definitely not my definition of friendly. I consider ignoring him, but the last time I ignored a rough looking kid at Sunny Hill, I’d earned myself a broken nose and split lip. 

“Dan.” I reply quickly, trying not to make eye-contact with him.

Instead I stared at the ceiling and let Carrie’s voice sink into my mind. 

I’m trapped. I’m trapped with all these psycho’s. And the only possible good thing about this is one of the Variant members, Phil. I can’t stop thinking about his bright blue eyes and amused smirk- when he found me screaming at that bastard fence. 

“So, Dan!” This Alfie guy jumps off his bed, abandoning the beaten basketball. I resist the urge to crawl under my duvet and block out the world with my iPod. Alfie’s inches from my face now, bright excited eyes gleaming with anticipation. I back away slightly, hitting my head on my bed frame. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I try to ignore his creepy as hell smile. “What gang are you going to join, new boy?” his breath reeks of garlic and god knows what else. I crinkle my nose. Alfie, this member of so-called ‘gang’ havoc, was starting to scare me. 

I open my mouth to repeat that I wasn’t planning on staying long. But Alfie cuts me off, as well as the door flinging open, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

He laughs a loud obnoxious guffaw, and I back further away from him. “Leave?!” he chokes, practically gurgling laughter. “You really think you can just-” 

“Alfie, don't bully the new kid,” my head snaps up to the teasing tone. A girl steps through the door wearing her own customised version of the school uniform; a white shirt tucked into a knee length skirt and ripped tights. I recognise her from earlier; she had been one of the kids standing at the windows when I’d first arrived. She didn’t bang on the windows like the others though. She had had her face pressed against the window for a moment before using a silver tube- lipstick? to write in cursive on the glass of the window. Her crimson lips pulled back into a shark grin. 

Four other Havoc students; two girls and two boys block the door as the girl walks in. The other kids look pretty much the same as Alfie and the girl; the boy had dyed green hair and a white shirt over shorts. The others had similar wacky hairstyles, but the point was, they were all blocking my way out. 

The girl who had walked in, held up the silver tube of lipstick I’d seen her with earlier. “Guessin’ you didn't get my message?” 

At the time I’d thought it was some kind of prank. Now I really wish I’d have payed attention to what she was writing. 

She makes her way over with an identical psychotic gleam in her eyes, those same crimson lips stretched into an over-the-top smile, but not like Carrie’s. There was no glimmer of fear in this girl’s eyes; She was the wild animal, and I was dinner. 

“New meat, huh,” she pouts at Alfie and struts over, glossy black hair cascading down her left shoulder, the other side of her head shaved clearly off. At any other school, she’d be straight in isolation, but this seems to be the norm for Chapel Heights. The girl looks like she belongs in some 90’s tribute music video. 

“I’m Catherine Valdes, but you can call me Cat.” she purrs, her american accent throwing me off. The silver bracelets decorating her wrist jingle when she reaches out a hand for me to shake and I notice jagged fingernails, her wrist covered in strange blue symbols. Cat smirks when she catches me staring. “It marks us as Havoc.” she explains before folding her tanned arms and looking up at Alfie. “We’ve got about five minutes.” her scarlet lips stretch into a grin when I send her a questioning glare. “Five minutes until what?” I demand.

Something suddenly crashes against the door and Catherine and Alfie’s cronies press their backs against the wood. “Hurry up Cat!” One of the girls hiss. “We have two Variants and Matthew outside!” 

The girl- Cat- rolls her eyes. “Relax, Fleur!” she sends a smirk my way. “He’s already ours.”

“It says here in the RULE-BOOK,” a male’s high pitched voice from outside, emphasizes. “Section thirty seven in the newcomer section, that-”

“Okay, maybe not five minutes,” Cat hums to herself, rolling her eyes skyward. Then she stamps her foot like a paddying toddler. “Screw the rules, Matthew!” her lips pull back into a snarl. “He’s ours so BACK THE FUCK OFF!” 

I’ve had enough. I jump up. “What the hell is going on?!” 

“You can’t hog him!” Another male voice shouts from outside, and there's another sound like somebody smashing their fists against the door. “Deyes, open the door you fucking coward!” 

“Cat!” Fleur- one of the Havoc girls with blonde curly hair dyed different colours, groaned and pressed her back harder against the door. “Would you hurry up?!” her teeth are gritted, and there's traces of some kind of fight on the girl's face. Her pale face was dotted with yellow and brown bruises. I think about this so-called “war” Carrie talked about, and I inwardly shiver. 

“At least give the poor guy a choice!” a familiar voice- Matthew shrieks. “He might be perfect for The Society!” I hadn't even met Matthew yet, but I had a pretty good image of what he looked like in my head from his high pitched squeak. I pictured a small boy with a mop of greasy brown hair and thick rimmed dorky glasses. The nerd, the teachers pet. The geek. Is that who ‘The Society’ were? 

I look at Alfie and Catherine for an explanation, but none of them have one. Instead the other girl with Fleur, let's out a laugh. This girl had long blood red hair, the tips reaching her stomach. She folds her arms across her chest and leans further into the door with the others, ignoring the consistent rattling, the door opening and shutting as the other kids tried to squirm their way in.

“You’re too late, Matthew!” She teases, shooting a devilish look at me. “He’s already one of us!” 

What?! I start to make my way over to the door. “I- I’m not in any of the gangs!” I try and make my voice tough and intimidating but instead my voice goes high, as if I'd just sucked an ounce of helium. 

I make it to the door and grasp the cold handle, but somebody suddenly has me by the collar of my sweater. Alfie. He tugs me backwards and wrestles me to the carpet before I can fight back. I feel his knees digging into my gut and chest, knocking the breath out of me. “Sorry, can you repeat that, Dan?” his icy breath tickles my ear and I struggle violently. “Get off!”

I can't speak. I can barely breathe, never mind sucking a few words out. Alfie pins my arms to my sides, his weight making me want to cry out. Catherine just stands there, watching the show. I only see her black heels tapping rhythmically against the rough carpet as I lay with my face pressed against it. She sounds impatient. 

“You’ll have to pick a gang at some point, Dan.” I can’t even see her face but from her poisonous tone I can tell she’s grinning. 

“You’re fucking crazy!” I seeth when I manage to get my breath back. “I'm not even staying here!”

I know that's a lie. Phil told me they lock the doors every morning at 10:am and then at 8:00pm to prevent runaways. Not that they’d get much far with the fifty foot fence around the circumstance of the school. We were trapped. 

Alfie’s grip on me loosens slightly as he throws his head back and laughs one of his guffaws. “Don't you get it?!” I don't hear his next words because as soon as I gather enough strength and manage to free my hands, I’m letting all the fear and pain and anger I’ve felt since getting here, and before I consciously know what I’m doing I’m rolling on top of Alfie, straddling him, my face hot with anger. He’s stopped laughing and tries to hit me, but I'm already throwing myself over him, trapping his impending attack. When I have him well and truly helpless, I reer my fist back, panting and trying to swallow the screams clawing up my throat. 

Alfie’s head snaps back when my fist makes contact with his nose, and before I know it a rush of crimson matching Catherine's lipstick is streaming down his face, staining his lips and dribbling onto the collar of his shirt. 

I think about screaming that there was no chance in hell I was joining his fucked up gang, but instead I roll off him and jump up quickly, staggering slightly. Alfie lies there curled up in the foetal position, his hands now free and smashed against his mouth and nose. He was moaning loudly and cussing, his eyes glittering with tears and his forehead gleaming with perspiration. 

The others stare at me with a sense of both bewilderment and amusement.The door stops clattering and it goes quiet outside. Fleur and the green haired guy start laughing. “You’re dead, new kid,” Fleur gasps through laughter, and at Cat’s gesture, she and the others move away from the door. The green haired guy sends me a two fingered salute. “Good luck, newbie.” he smirks. 

Catherine only stares at me, her head cocked to one side. “You might have been a good Havoc,” she hums softly, before wincing when Alfie, still moaning and swearing, stuttered to his feet. 

“I’d make a run for it now if I were you,” she gestures to the door with an unreadable look on her face. Disappointment? I guess I’d never know, because when Alfie started to yell and scream at his cronies to grab me while Fleur and the others just laughed at him, I quickly made my escape. 

I expect my other welcoming committee outside, but to my surprise the corridor is empty and quiet. I spot a few lead pipes abandoned on the floor by my foot and step over them, my stomach doing flip flops. Where the hell am I?

Heart hammering, I stumble out of my room, my head spinning and my throat sore. I wipe at my nose with the heel of my hand and it comes back smudged red. 

“Fuck,” I think begrudgingly to myself, and almost want to laugh at the absurdity of all of this. To my surprise, all I really want to do now is cry into Carrie's many coloured beanbags in her office and beg her and the school to let me out.

I wander down the boys dormitory, passing doors covered in graffiti and rebellious symbols. Girls had plastered makeup everywhere and the boys had splattered every possible surface with green and black paint. I hurt all over and just want to collapse. I just want to sleep. Fuck, I wipe at my eyes and sniff loudly. I want my parents. That’s who I really, honestly to god wanted right now.

I spy a camera sitting on the top of one of the boys doors as I pass, and suddenly get this insane urge to grab it and smash it against the wall whilst screaming at the top of my lungs.

“Dan Howell?” at the sound of my name being questioned, I spin around to defend myself against whoever was planning on scalping me like Alfie and the other Havoc members. But my arms fall weakly to my side when I see the two students.

I’m face-to-face with a boy and girl. They're not Havoc. I can tell from the boy’s neatly styled brown hair brushed in a side fringe and the girls short wispy blonde hair braided into side plaits. 

“Are you guys-?” the boy cuts me off with an actual friendly smile. His demeanour reminds me of Phil. He wears his uniform rebelliously like Havoc- but not crazily rebellious. He and the girl wear a white shirt over black pants;in the girl’s case she wore a black pleated skirt and knee high socks. Both of them sported the tie loosely around their collars. I realized I’d seen this look before. In the two runners, Caspar and Louise. In Phil. These two were like them - they were Variant.

“Your actual welcoming committee?” the girl has an american accent and her smile is warm. She holds out her hand for me to shake and I frown at it. Is this what all the kids did here? Since when did teenagers shake hands?!

“I’m Elle Bishop, and this is PJ,” the american girl- Elle- gestures to the boy who smiles widely. “Hello!” he waves excitedly and I notice he has abnormally green eyes, but they gleam with warmth and for the first time since Phil, I actually feel a tiny bit closer to feeling sane.  
“Hi,” I manage a smile at them, and clear my throat. “So you guys are uh…” I scrunch my face up, getting tongue tied. “Variant?” Elle smiles and nods. She sneaks a look at PJ who grins back. “We’re the ones you want to hang out with,” she shrugs, smiling. “The Society are all kinda..” she trails off and PJ lets out a half crazy laugh. “Fucked up?” he offers. 

Elle nods, but there’s something dark in her eyes when she looks down. I wonder if Elle and PJ were here when the war happened. PJ perks up. “So Dan, we’ve been asked by our friend to escort you to the Variant dormitories,” he smirks for some reason at Elle and she rolls her eyes with a smile. “Coming?” she nudges PJ when she thinks I’m not looking, and I try to pretend I didn’t notice. “I’m guessing this is an invitation into your gang?” I can’t help asking as the two of them lead me out of Havoc territory. I let out a breath of relief when we’re making our way back downstairs. PJ takes two steps at a time whilst Elle walks beside me. “You don’t really have much of a choice, Dan,” she sighs. Before I can answer she turns to me, her expression mimicking that of Carrie’s earlier on. “Join Variant, Dan.” she says softly. “If you want to get out, join us.” 

Elle’s words play over and over again in my head as the two of them lead me downstairs, through a stone archway, past a bunch of Havoc kids who stare at me as we pass. I keep my head down. Finally, PJ leads me through a huge wooden door which reminds me of something out of Harry Potter, and then we’re standing in another dormitory. This time, the walls aren’t splattered with paint and makeup- they’re covered with a green V. It was everywhere. The ceiling and floor and scribbled all over the doors parallel to each other along the corridor, with different coloured marker pen. I send PJ a questioning look and he shrugs. 

“It means we actually want to get out,” he explains, before knocking on the door in front of us. “Yo! I’ve got him!” 

My stomach flip with anxiety as I catch voices from inside. a lot of voices. 

“Why do you even knock?” a female voice laughs from inside, and PJ rolls his eyes and pushes down on the door handle. The door swings open and I find myself staring at a sea of black and white- school shirts and black pants and skirts. Different hair styles and colours-but I have to admit- they’re all beautiful. Girls and boys smile at me as I stand in the doorway with PJ and Elle. 

The students- I’m guessing they’re all Variant- they sit in various plays in the small room, some of them stretched out on the carpet and others perched on the bed. I recognise some of them; Caspar and Louise lying sprawled on the bed laughing at something- a magazine? in front of them. Though my gaze goes from them to a familiar looking boy sitting cross legged on the floor.

It’s Phil. 

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I legit love writing this piece of crap omg omg tell me what you guys think? :)  
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